by June Francis
Viv walked to the end of the road and round to the wide entry that ran down the back of the houses. She went along, counting yard doors. When she thought she had the right one she tried the latch. It gave and in she slipped. Seeing the old tin bath which contained Kenny’s collection of frogs and newts, she knew that it was the right yard but there was nobody there.
‘Hello down there,’ croaked a voice.
Viv started and looked about her.
‘Up here.’
She looked up and her stomach turned over. Kenny was sitting on the windowsill of a first-floor window. His eyes were closed and he was gripping the side of the frame with one hand and the sill with the other. Behind him the sash window was half open. ‘What are you doing up there?’ she called.
‘Me budgie flew out … and I got out … to try and catch him.’
‘And I suppose he flew off before you could grab him?’ Viv said as calmly as she could.
‘He flew onto the roof. I’ve been here ages and I’ve shouted and shouted but nobody’s heard me.’
‘Where’s your mam?’
‘Gone to work.’
‘Why don’t you climb back in again?’ she suggested, but knew the answer before he gave it.
‘I-I can’t. I’m frightened to let go.’
Viv was silent, knowing just how he felt. Up that tree that George had persuaded her to climb she had been unable to let go. She took a deep breath. ‘I take it nobody else is in?’
‘Our Ingrid went out. She said she’d only be five minutes.’
Viv did not bother asking about Nick because he must be out, too. She felt a sharp ache of disappointment but it was no use worrying about that now. ‘How long since Ingrid went?’
‘Ages and ages.’ Kenny ventured to open his eyes but quickly shut them again. ‘Perhaps you can get the fire brigade?’ he suggested tremulously.
Viv considered calling the fire brigade out a bit drastic. All she really had to do was go inside the house and pull him inside. It was not difficult. The only trouble was that when she tried the back door it would not open. ‘Why is the back door locked?’ she called.
‘’Cos our Ingrid said it was safer and I wasn’t to let anyone in,’ said Kenny. ‘I’ve bin thinking. There’s a ladder. You could climb up and rescue me.’ He sounded happier but Viv’s heart sank. Perhaps she should call out the fire brigade? Coward! she scolded herself. Find the ladder. She looked about her and saw it lying on the ground against the whitewashed wall. Somehow she managed to heave it upright and against the wall. ‘Don’t look down’ was all she had to bear in mind. It wasn’t so very high.
Viv placed a foot on the first rung and began to climb, trying to think of anything but the hard ground below. She imagined knights in armour. Had they ever really rescued damsels from turrets or was it all a fairy tale? They’d have needed long ladders, the ones used for scaling walls during sieges … the side of her head touched Kenny’s shoe. ‘Hi!’ she said, smiling idiotically. ‘What’s it like being a pigeon?’ She hoisted herself higher so that her head was level with his.
‘How are you going to get me on the ladder?’ he asked.
Viv stared into his scared blue eyes, noting their similarity to Nick’s. ‘I wasn’t thinking of getting you on to the ladder. I was considering you giving me one of your hands and climbing inside.’
He gulped. ‘I don’t think I can.’
‘Of course you can!’ she exclaimed cheerfully. ‘You’d have had to let go to come down the ladder. I’m frightened too, you know.’
‘Are you?’
She wanted to nod her head vigorously but did not dare in case the movement disengaged the ladder. ‘Just take my hand.’ Her smile of encouragement felt as if it was glued to her face.
Kenny, keeping his eyes on her, slowly slackened his grip. She did not give herself time to think as she let go of the ladder to shove him through the window opening. Then, still keeping her mind blank, she gripped the frame and pulled herself inside to collapse on top of him on the floor.
For a moment they lay there, breathing heavily, and then Kenny sat up and cried, ‘What about my budgie?’
Viv started to laugh. ‘Forget it boyo! I’m not climbing on the roof. How about a cup of tea?’
‘Okay!’ He smiled, bounced to his feet and led the way out the bedroom.
It was when they were sitting down with their tea, and a jam buttie each that Kenny had made, that Viv asked him where Nick was.
‘He’s left,’ he said with his mouth full. ‘Gone to live somewhere else.’
Suddenly the bread she was chewing tasted like cardboard. ‘Where?’ she said.
‘Don’t know, him and Mam had a big argument.’ Kenny eyed her with interest. ‘I’ve seen you before, haven’t I? Nick brought you to see my frogs. Your name’s Vivien. I’d never heard that name before, that’s why I remember it. Mam said it several times when she was shouting at our Nick.’
So her name had come up in an argument? She gulped the tea. ‘What was the row about?’
He shrugged. ‘Dunno.’ His expression changed, became alert. He got up. ‘There’s our Ingrid. I hope she won’t belt me.’
Viv heard the key in the lock and stood up as Ingrid entered the room.
The girl stopped abruptly and frowned. ‘What are you doing here?’ Before Viv could answer she rounded on her brother. ‘I thought I told you not to let anybody in!’
Kenny said defensively, ‘I didn’t! She came to my rescue. It was just like on the telly.’
‘What d’you mean?’
‘It was nothing,’ murmured Viv.
‘Yes, it was,’ said Kenny, jutting out his chin. ‘You said you were scared, so you were brave.’ He began to tell his sister what had happened.
‘You stupid idiot!’ she muttered when he had finished. ‘You shouldn’t have taken the budgie out of its cage in the first place, never mind upstairs.’ She toyed with the key in her hand and addressed Viv in an embarrassed voice. ‘I suppose I’ve got to thank you. If he’d fallen Mam would have killed me and I’d have never forgiven myself. I only went to a friend’s for a few minutes.’
‘Forget it.’ Viv smiled.
Ingrid cleared her throat. ‘Why did you come?’
‘I came to talk to Nick but Kenny told me he’s left.’
‘We don’t know where he is!’ exclaimed Ingrid, pressing the key against the palm of her hand. ‘He’d been all quiet and withdrawn since he broke it off with you. He threw himself into his work. He’s won an award, yer know?’ A smile lit her face. ‘That brightened him up a bit, but then he got all tight-faced again.’
‘You told him about seeing me at the Casbah, I suppose?’ said Viv quietly. ‘There was nothing in it, you know.’
Ingrid shook her head. ‘I told Mam. I didn’t want to remind him about you. It was she who told him.’
‘Is that why they argued?’
‘I suspect it was partly that.’ Ingrid shrugged off her coat. ‘But the argument seemed to be more about some letter and him planning to build you a house. Mam didn’t like that. Said why hadn’t he ever thought of building her one? Stupid really, when we’ve got a house. But then Mam always expected too much from our Nick. In the end he just had enough.’ She stared at Viv. ‘Why did you split up? You both seemed so happy.’
‘It’s a long story,’ said Viv. ‘Anyway, I’d better be going.’
Ingrid touched her arm. ‘Listen, if Nick gets in touch, do you want me to tell him you called?’
Viv’s mood lightened. ‘If you would.’ She rummaged in her bag and brought out a biro and scrap of paper. She hesitated before writing Stephen’s address. ‘He can get in touch with me there.’
Ingrid scrutinised the paper. ‘I thought you lived Anfield football ground way?’
She smiled. ‘I had mother trouble too so I left home.’
Ingrid followed her out and on the doorstep thrust out a hand with a shy smile. ‘Thanks for rescuing the little perisher.’
&nb
sp; Viv squeezed her hand. ‘Friends?’
Ingrid nodded, her eyes bright. ‘See you again perhaps?’
‘Sure.’ Viv walked away, feeling little better than when she had come. But at least now she had friends in Nick’s family. But where was he? And would she ever see him again?
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Nick was up to his wellied ankles in reddish clay, overseeing the construction of his award-winning home which was to be the showhouse on a new housing estate the other side of the Mersey.
On the strength of his winning the design competition Tim Rushford, an architect with his own practice, had offered Nick the position of salaried assistant and the opportunity to become a junior partner in a couple of years. It was a break that he had never expected so soon in his career and he considered himself incredibly lucky in this part of his life if nowhere else. Advancement could be slow because architects were not allowed to advertise. It could take time to get your name known.
Tim and his wife had also offered Nick a room in their house near Eastham village until he found a place of his own. It was completely different to living at home. There was no mad scramble in the morning with Nick hammering on the door for Ingrid to get out of the bathroom. Nor did he have to worry about a frog fancying a swim in his cereal. Now it was grapefruit and toast in a proper rack on a checked tablecloth while watching thrushes and bluetits take food from the bird table in the garden. Conversation was different also. It was more to do with the state of Berlin and what the Russians would do next, than whether his mother had washed Ingrid’s new sweater in Lux as instructed.
If only Viv could see him now. It was a bittersweet moment for Nick, watching the foundations of his first house being dug. The working-class boy was on his way up. Hilda’s words ‘Not good enough’ still haunted him. As he trudged towards the Land Rover parked at the edge of the site where Tim was waiting, he wondered if he had subconsciously started severing his links with his working-class background after the split with Viv or later, after the argument with his mother over the letter? Not for the first time he asked himself why Hilda had left it for three weeks before coming to say that Viv wanted no letters from him? Why had she bothered? He had got the message when Viv had not turned up on her birthday. Even so he still found it difficult to accept that he had been mistaken in Viv and that it was all over between them.
‘Everything all right, Nick?’ asked Tim. He was in his late forties, a bit of a worrier and inclined to fuss.
Nick smiled. ‘Fine.’
‘We’ll go into Birkenhead then before going home. Celia wants me to get some decent wine for dinner tonight.’
‘It’s good of you to include me,’ said Nick, trying to sound enthusiastic. ‘You don’t have to, you know. I could have gone out.’
‘Glad you’re on the scene,’ said Tim gruffily, starting the Land Rover. ‘Between you and me, I hate these things my wife puts on but since the children have left home she seems to need to fill the house with people. I’d love a Saturday evening just lazing around but that’s not Celia’s way.’ He sighed. ‘Don’t let on that’s how I feel, though. She thinks I enjoy them.’
Nick said, ‘How many people are coming?’
‘Five. That’s why you’re a godsend. William and Joan’s daughter Ursula has finished with college and just got back from hitchhiking on the Continent … dangerous thing to do in my opinion. But she’s a bit of a rebel and very outspoken. Celia thought it polite to include her in the invitation once she knew she was back. Anyway you’ll be able to talk to her and it’ll be nice for her to see a young face.’
Nick smiled agreement but was thinking savagely, why is it that couples always feel they have to pair you off with somebody of the opposite sex? It’s as if they believe the only state of bliss available is the married one. ‘What subjects did she study?’ he asked politely.
‘She was at Art College, the same as you, but it’s textiles she’s interested in. Designs all her own clothes. It’ll be interesting to see what she turns up in this evening. Probably make your eyes pop out.’
Nick thought sardonically that he couldn’t wait.
Dinner was arranged for eight o’clock but the guests started arriving at half past seven and Nick was given the task of pouring the drinks. The eye-catching Ursula and her parents were late and while Nick’s eyes did not pop they definitely widened when a well-proportioned brunette of middle height paused in the doorway, obviously assessing the effect she was having on everyone. Her dress was all black and white but was printed so that the top half consisted of several dice, the piece from beneath her bust to her waist was made up of aces of spades, and the skirt patterned with oblong shapes of black and white stripes.
‘I’m sorry we’re late,’ said her mother in a breathless voice. ‘But she was still sewing until half an hour ago.’
‘Very eye-catching,’ said Celia, nodding her small blonde head vigorously. ‘What do you think, Nick?’
Everyone looked at him including Ursula, whose eyes contained a lively curiosity.
‘Gambling and liquorice allsorts,’ he said quietly. ‘The sweet life in the South of France. Monte Carlo.’
Ursula’s wide mouth eased into a grin and she clapped her hands. ‘Clever! But actually I was just playing with the idea of black and white … contrasts … good and evil.’ She came over to Nick. ‘Pour me a drink, there’s a good boy. I’ll have a large sherry.’
‘You’ll have a small one and like it,’ he said lightly, not enjoying being called a good boy. It sounded derogatory. ‘We’ll be going in for dinner any minute now.’
She pouted but accepted the glass he offered. ‘I suppose they’ve seated us next to each other?’
‘Do you mind?’
‘Not at all.’ Her violet eyes assessed him. ‘I think that’s why I was invited. Mummy said that Celia believes that you’re suffering from unrequited love and I’m here to cheer you up. Is it true?’
Nick’s hand paused a moment before putting the stopper in the decanter. He smiled. ‘Tell me, what was it like hitch-hiking round Europe?
‘Neatly turned!’ She sounded pleased. ‘It was interesting but tiring actually. It even got boring at times.’ Her eyes twinkled. ‘You know – fighting off the hordes of would-be rapists that Mummy was convinced we were going to encounter.’
‘Weren’t there any?’
‘Mostly bottom pinchers. I had a near miss in some place beginning with an F founded by Julius Caesar. We were on our way to the St Aygalf Camp when—’ She paused. ‘No, I don’t think I’ll tell you. Not unless you tell me who she is?’
Nick stared at her, his face expressionless. ‘I told you, there isn’t anyone. So you’re quite safe to chase me yourself.’
‘I thought it was the men who did the chasing.’
‘Not in my experience. What if we chase each other?’
‘The mind boggles! I have this picture of a snake eating its tail.’
‘Do you consider that possible?’
She laughed and he was glad when at that moment their hostess signalled them to dinner. He hoped that would be the end of Ursula’s curiosity, but she was nothing if not determined. ‘Was she pretty, witty, amusing?’
Nick laid his cutlery neatly on his empty plate. ‘Would it satisfy you if I made something up?’ His tone was caustic.
‘Oh dear, I’ve annoyed you,’ she said mournfully. ‘But there’s a look of Mr Rochester about you and it makes me very inquisitive.’
‘Who?’ he asked startled.
‘Jane Eyre. The book. He had a wife hidden away and poor deluded Jane didn’t find out until they were at the altar. You’d think it would be enough to turn you off a bloke but he had a good excuse. His wife was mad so what else could he do but lock her away and pretend she didn’t exist?’
‘I would have thought locking her away would make her madder.’
‘Exactly!’ She pounced on his words. ‘Of course they looked at madness differently in those days.’ There was a f
ulminating expression in her violet eyes. ‘I’d love to see you all in black leather.’
‘You’re mad!’
She grinned. ‘It’s all the rage in Europe.’ She drank half her wine. ‘We’re so insular in England and it’s worse up here. London’s not so bad.’
Nick’s lips twitched. ‘You’d like to see all northern men in black leather? What would the women wear – white satin pinnies?’
She laughed. ‘We’ll have to go out together while I’m home. It’ll be fun. We can do that, can’t we? Nothing serious.’
He hesitated, considering how he and Viv had said that they weren’t going to get serious. The engagement ring was still in its box in a suitcase on top of the wardrobe in his bedroom. The memory of the day he had placed it on her finger still had the power to hurt.
‘You don’t have to if you don’t want to,’ said Ursula. ‘But you’re rousing my curiosity again.’
Nick forced a smile. ‘Nothing serious?’ he said.
‘Goodie!’ she exclaimed, and clapped her hands.
So began a period in Nick’s life that occasionally seemed unreal. During weekdays he was on site or in the office. Several evenings and most weekends he went out with Ursula. Sometimes they went into Liverpool to The Jacaranda just round the corner from the Art College where they served the best bacon butties for hungry artists and musicians that he had ever tasted. He tried to feel some of Ursula’s enthusiasm for the scruffy musicians but the music had gone out of his soul. They went to The Crack, crowded and smoky, to mingle with the arty crowd. Nothing seemed to have changed from his day. Everyone was still trying to get over their own point of view while some were trying to get in with those who had made their mark, however small. Because Ursula had made it clear to him that their relationship was not to be taken seriously Nick was relaxed in her company. She was a character and he found spending time with her a pleasant way to fill his empty hours.
Celia teased Nick about her, asking when the wedding would be. Ursula was well connected. Her father was an accountant and a member of the planning committee of a local council. Nick made a joke of it, saying that Ursula had her career to consider, but once the idea of marriage was in his head it would not go away. One evening he took out the small box with the engagement ring inside and the remembrance of Viv’s face when he had put it on her finger was vivid in his mind. He sat there, staring down at the ring, thinking of her and Hilda.